


misunderstandings and memories (and other alliterative things)

by galactic_chiroptera



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Beware the Fluff, F/M, Fluff, I gave Bryn feelings oops, angsty fluff, backstories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galactic_chiroptera/pseuds/galactic_chiroptera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know she's able to kill. I saw her take down Mercer, for Nocturnal's sake. But to join them? To do it for fun?"</p>
<p>"What makes you think she had a choice, mate?"</p>
<p>When Brynjolf finds Avyn's Brotherhood armor under her bed, it raises the question of the difference between morals and necessity and the fine line between the two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	misunderstandings and memories (and other alliterative things)

**Author's Note:**

> this has been on my computer since this summer bc i'm weak for beardy Scottish thieves that call me "lass"
> 
> so here, have some self-indulgent dragonborn/bryn trash

"I can't believe you."

"Bryn, listen-"

"That's where you've been all this time! Working for that band of- of murderers?"

There's nothing Avyn can do except watch as all the eyes in the cistern turn to them, where Brynjolf has her Dark Brotherhood cowl in one hand, brandishing it at her. She hopes to Nocturnal that Delvin will manage to come to her rescue after hearing the ruckus- surely he'd be able to explain the situation to Bryn.

"Let me explain."

"There's no explaining here to do, lass." He's in her face now, but she refuses to back down. She won't let him intimidate her this time. "You're an assassin. A dirty, foul killer."

"Them's fightin' words."

Thank the Divines. Delvin's coarse voice cuts across Brynjolf's, catching the Nord's attention, and he releases the front of Avyn's armor. She takes a step back, eyes narrowing at him dangerously.

"I know she's able to kill. I saw her take down Mercer, for Nocturnal's sake. But to join them? To do it for fun?" Brynjolf's voice rises again, but Delvin Mallory, bless him, stays calm.

"What makes you think she had a choice, mate?" he says quietly, body language all casual reason.

That stops Brynjolf short, and his arms lower. He turns to Avyn, a question on his lips. She merely stares him down, arms crossed over her chest.

"Astrid doesn't give them much of a choice," Delvin continues quietly. "She takes 'em in their sleep. Forces 'em to kill if they want to get out. I'm surprised she hasn't gotten herself snuffed yet, honestly."

Avyn nods her silent agreement, and the anger in Brynjolf's eyes dissipates completely. "Lass, I didn't-" he begins, looking at her, but she cuts him off.

"I get it. You didn't know," she says coolly, playing it off. "It's fine. Doesn't matter." Reaching forward, she pulls the hood out of his hand with more force than is probably necessary, and shoves it back into the chest it had been stored in. "Go to bed, Bryn."

The gawkers take that as their cue to disperse, going about their own business. Vipir and Cynric scuttle away to their own beds, and Rune turns his attention to the conversation he'd been having with Sapphire.

"Av..." Brynjolf tries as Avyn lifts her armor off, revealing the clothes beneath, and pulls the blankets back on her bed.

"Don't. Just don't. Not tonight." When she looks at him, her face is stony but her eyes are pleading. He hesitates, and she sees his throat work as if words are caught in his throat. Then he just nods, taking a step back before turning away.

Avyn settles into her bed, turning on her side and curling in on herself a bit. She'd known Brynjolf didn't like the Brotherhood. But when Astrid had taken her in her sleep, she couldn't bring herself to kill the woman as well as the chosen victim. She'd given off such a... motherly aura. And it had proven true, even until Astrid betrayed her and the Sanctuary was destroyed. It had hurt, seeing the woman that had done so much for her and then so much against her in such pain. Nazir held her afterwards, sorrow in his eyes as Babette clung to his hand like the young girl she resembles.

  

The next morning, and the following few days, Avyn avoids Brynjolf like the plague. When he comes into a room, she goes out of her way to make a hasty escape. Vex and Delvin don't mind; she hears them talking about it later, how Vex wanted to give him a piece of her mind for shouting at his protégé like that, and how bad she felt for Avyn. Imagine that, Vex. Feeling bad. Avyn nearly chuckles when she hears that, but she's touched. She really is.

She's training with Vipir when Brynjolf walks in. Vipir takes one look between them, then (damn him) nods at Avyn, says "I believe you two have matters to discuss," and takes his leave.

Avyn swears under her breath, pulling her bowstring back once more and firing another arrow into the target. She repeats this several times, feeling Brynjolf's eyes on her the whole time. When he finally speaks, the arrow goes wild.

"I'm sorry, lass. I was out of line."

Carefully, she lowers the ebony bow and slides it onto her back. "We should talk," she says quietly, pushing her hood back. She can get her arrows later; nobody will take them. He nods, and she leads him out of the training room and into the empty cistern. Everyone's off running odds and ends quests or drinking in the Flagon, so they should have them time to themselves.

She sits by the water, and he follows her lead, dipping his feet in and paddling them a little. Neither of them know what to say, so they sit in silence for a few moments.

"Is it true?" Brynjolf finally says. "What Delvin said. About the Brotherhood kidnapping you."

Avyn nods slowly, eyes fixed on the water. "They sent me a letter, first. I was following up on a lead and found some little boy that wanted Grelod the Kind dead. He'd performed the Black Sacrament, but I didn't know that. He thought I was the assassin. Up until that point, I'd made it a rule to only kill when necessary. If I was under attack, or they did something horribly wrong."

"And Grelod had done something wrong," Brynjolf says softly, nodding.

"She was a horrible woman. I'd been there once, and the way she treated those children... Those poor kids." She shudders, and he shocks her by putting an arm around her shoulders briefly.

"Now, she deserved it. That wasn't an assassination, that was a mercy killing," he says, chuckling.

Avyn's silent, just nodding as he rubs her arm then retreats back to his own space before she continues. "So then came the letter. Just a black handprint and a phrase- 'We know'. I figured it was someone trying to psyche me out. My aunt sends stuff like that all the time." She laughs a little, twisting her hands. "Pretty sure she was part of the Brotherhood as well. So I didn't think much of it. Then I woke up the next morning in an abandoned house and Astrid was in the corner."

He's listening intently now. His feet have stilled in the water, and he's watching her face as she speaks. "She told me one of the people in that room had a 2000 septim contract on their head. She didn't tell me which one. But if I killed the right one, she'd let me out." She pauses, wary of her next statement. "I guessed wrong the first time."

She hears a sharp intake of breath from him, never moving her eyes from the water as she feels him tense, then let out his breath slowly and relax. Waiting a moment, she continues. "She said she needed more people like me in the Brotherhood, that would carry out contracts without asking questions. I was intrigued... So I went."

She tells him about the Sanctuary, about meeting Nazir and Babette and Arbjorn and Festus and all the other wandering souls that found sanctity there. She tells him about Cicero, and the Night Mother, and he snorts when she calls the Keeper "basically a psychopathic homicidal court fool". She tells him about the contract with Motierre.

"That was you?" he demands in disbelief, staring at her. Avyn can feel the anger welling in him, but he clamps it down and tells her to continue. She wonders why he's doing all this for her, why he's listening to her when he hates what she does. She decides not to tell him about the bride and the Gourmet.

"So... After I killed the decoy, I got out through the side door... And Maro was there waiting for me. He said someone had ratted me out. Someone had promised me to him if he left the Brotherhood alone.

"But he betrayed them."She shivers a little at the memory. She can still remember the dread that had run through her at that very moment. A cold pit forms in the bottom of her stomach now, and she pulls her knees up to her chest.

"I rode Shadowmere back as fast as I could. It was remarkable, actually. But..." Here, tears threaten to well up. She shoves the lump in her throat down. "Festus was tied to the tree out front, s-shot full of arrows. At least 20. The Penitus Oculatus were attacking the Sanctuary." Her voice breaks a little here, but there's rage in her tone, and Brynjolf puts an arm around her, much to her surprise.

"Almost everyone was dead. They were setting the place on fire. Veezara was in the front room, robbed and stripped clean. I saw them kill Arbjorn, in werewolf form. I didn't see Gabriella, but... We never found her. I found Nazir in the dining area, with Babette. They made their escape in time, luckily." A tear breaks free, and that's it. The floodgates open, but she soldiers on. "I was going to go as well... But the Night Mother spoke to me. She told me to come to her, to hide in the coffin. She saved my life- I never would have gotten out in time. But Nazir and Babette..." She chokes a little. "They made it out. But I can only imagine what it was like. To see the only home they'd ever known, blown to pieces. I felt the explosions from inside the coffin- I must have hit my head or something, 'cause the next thing I remember is Nazir pulling me out of the pond in the foyer of the Sanctuary."

She takes a deep breath. "Take your time," Brynjolf says gently, hand moving slowly up and down her arm, keeping her grounded. She wipes her face, sniffing.

"The place was destroyed. All the bodies were... Charred. Unrecognizable. The Night Mother told me to go to Astrid, though, to follow through on... her plan, she said." She has a hard time getting the next part out, squeezing her eyes shut against the memory. "A-Astrid was still alive, but.... She hadn't gotten to shelter in time. She was as bad as the corpses." She pauses again, inhaling deep. "She told me it was her that had bargained with Maro. She wanted things to go back to the way they were, before Cicero and the Night Mother, and before..." She trails off.

"You," he finishes quietly, and she nods.

"I should have been mad. I should have been so, so angry, as mad at her as I'd been at Mercer... But I wasn't. I couldn't bring myself to be. I don't know why." She stifles a small sob. "She told me to kill her. After giving and taking so much, giving me a new family, she told me to take her life. She wanted me to fulfill Motierre's contract. She was the Black Sacrament."

She wipes her face again, then reaches into her pack. "She gave me this." She pulls out the Blade of Woe, and it hisses and glows with red light. She holds the tip and the handle, spinning it slowly. "I think it's Daedric," she says quietly, unwittingly resting her head against Brynjolf's shoulder. "I'm not sure though. It's enchanted."

He looks at it, then holds out his hand in a question. She hands it to him without a second thought, and he turns it, nodding slowly. "A beauty," he says approvingly. "So what happened next?" he asks, handing it back.

Avyn shrugs. "I fulfilled the contract. Got my pay. Killed that bastard Motierre. Came here, hung out for a few weeks keeping the Guild running. Nazir and Babette are at the Dawnstar Sanctuary. Delvin helped us outfit it, make it actually livable. They're working on getting new recruits. It's easy now that we've made the statement."

She falls silent, her head still resting comfortably against his shoulder, his arm still around her. "Why did you listen to me?" she finally asks quietly. He makes a questioning noise. "You hate the Brotherhood. Why listen to their downfall like this, if not for kicks and giggles?"

He doesn't answer for a long moment. "Because it's you, lass," he finally says simply, as if that explains everything.

"Because I make all the difference," she says, giving a watery laugh.

He replies seriously, "You do." She looks up at him, and he kisses her, careful and slow.

It's like Dibella has parted the clouds and is smiling down at her. His lips are soft, a counterpoint to the roughness of his stubble against her chin. His hand comes up to cup her face, warm and calloused but oh-so-gentle.

She knows what those feelings are, now. The flush of irritation along her shoulders and the hair rising on her neck when she sees him flirting with Sapphire or Vex or Karliah. The cold, angry ball in the base of her stomach when he dismisses her with a phrase she can quote from memory. The way goosebumps rise along her arms and warmth shoots through her when he gives her that charming, roguish smile he saves just for her.

She likes him. Dare she even say she might love him.

She surges upwards, ignoring the drying tears as she kisses him back, one hand sliding around to the nape of his neck to reel him in and the other clinging to his shoulder. And as he shifts so the angle is perfect and he slides an arm around her waist, the moment is complete. Astrid and Arbjorn and Veezara and Gabriella and Festus might be gone but as long as Bryn is here, holding her and kissing her oh-so-perfectly there's still an inkling of hope and maybe everything is going to be okay.

He's the one to break away when air becomes vital, but he continues holding her close, resting his forehead against hers and his arm around her waist.

"You do make all the difference, lass," he says softly. She smiles at him, so wide she fears her lip will split. He brushes a lock of hair out of her face, tenderly, and traces his thumb along the scar that ravages her eye. "You never told me what happened here," he adds, indicating to it. Avyn laughs a little, leaning her weight into him.

"That's a story for another time. I'll tell you sometime." She winks, raising an eyebrow. "It's pretty interesting."

Brynjolf coughs on a startled laugh, shaking his head. Avyn leans in to kiss him again, slow and full of promise. His hand slides into her hair, and she bites down lightly on his lip, making him give a soft groan. She swears she's going to make him make that noise whenever she can, holy Mara.

She pulls back, and before she can reinstate her brain-to-mouth filter, she blurts, "I love you," then clamps her hand over her mouth, face draining of color.

He stares at her, a mix of pure shock and - happiness? Dare she even think it? His jaw is hanging slightly slack, eyes huge and pupils blown wider than usual. She has no idea if the latter is a good or a bad thing, but if she's read too much into this-

Then, he moves. In one swift movement filled with the fluidity of a trained thief, Brynjolf has her on her back, towering over her and caging her in  

"I never thought I'd see the day where I heard you say that," he says, before his lips are on hers again.

sh going to take this as a good sign, so she tangles a hand in his hair and pulls him closer so she doesn't have to crane get neck so far. She throws her other arm around his neck, keeping him there. Unlike the first two, this kiss is all fire and passion, and complete disregard to anyone that might come by and witness it.

"Say it again," he demands, pulling away with a harsh pant and a kind-of-comical suction noise.

She's all too willing to oblige, so she hauls him down again. "I love you," she murmurs, and repeats it over and over as she peppers him with kisses.

"Avyn," he whispers hoarsely. "I love you. It's only ever been you. Ever since the first day, when you waltzed into the marketplace with wonder in your eyes, so naïve- There was so much promise there-"

"And here I am now," she says softly, parting from where she was pressing a gentle kiss against his jaw. "You've got a good eye, don't you?" She winks, then gives a low chuckle.

"Aye, lass," he answers, holding her gaze. "I really do." She just looks at him, a smile curving her lips and pure affection in her eyes, then pulls him down again with the intent of kissing him once more. Then-

"I'm telling your dad!"

It's remarkable how high Avyn and Brynjolf jump, given their horizontal position, as the voice of the Guildmaster cuts across the cistern. When they look up, Veronica has a shit-eating grin plastered across her face, and Darwin is hooked to her arm, his chin resting on her shoulder. He's grinning as well, but it's more knowing and encouraging.

After a moment of stunned stillness, Brynjolf scrambles away from Avyn, whose eyes are blazing as she sits bolt upright.

"You weren't supposed to see that!" she snaps, but her voice lacks the strength necessary to make the phrase bite.

Veronica's grin turns smirky, and he exchanges a significant look with Darwin. "I figured," she calls. "I'm sure Lady Nocturnal is pleased with you getting it on in front of her shrine."

Darwin stifles a smile. Despite herself, Avyn rolls her eyes. Then she stiffens as Veronica calls, "We'll be sure to relay the news to your dad. We're having dinner with them tonight."

"Don't you even dare!"

But by the time she gets the sentence out they're gone, the sound of the Guild entrance sliding shut distant. She slumps in the silence, the tension leaving her body.

"He's gonna kill me," she says with a chuckle as Brynjolf warily moves closer again. "My mom won't care, but dad's gonna slaughter me. He doesn't have much room to talk though," she continues, making a face. Brynjolf raises an eyebrow, but she doesn't divulge any further. Instead, she reaches over and links their fingers together, pulling him over so she can push him onto his back, straddling him easily. "But in all honesty," she murmurs, a smirk crossing her lips as she leans in and presses a kiss to his chin, "I really don't care."


End file.
